


Lips of An Angel

by onierokinetic



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21911119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onierokinetic/pseuds/onierokinetic
Summary: “Richie? Richie, why are you crying, is everything okay?” Eddie is panicking, of course he is, but before he can finish an interrogation, Richie responds, not exactly answering the question.“Why are you whispering?”“I gotta whisper ‘cause I can’t be too loud.” Eddie is expecting some sort of snarky comeback. A joke about how he’s an adult man who is still trying to hide and talk quietly so his mom-wife doesn’t hear him.***A songfic based on Lips of An Angel by Hinder, in which Richie calls Eddie after a nightmare and Eddie falls deeper in love, all while Myra lays sleeping in the next room.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Myra Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 107





	Lips of An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% inspired by Lips of An Angel by Hinder which is totally a Reddie song. A lot of the Richie/Eddie phone call dialogue is taken directly from the song lyrics. If it's underlined, that means it's a direct lyric from the song and not my own work. 
> 
> Also, this fic was definitely an experiment with style and is a bit different from how I usually write so if you're not a fan of it, please don't expect that from my other works. I'm not exactly super proud of this fic, but that is mostly because I wanted to stay as true to the song as possible with the dialogue so it might sound a bit awkward at some points and I'm sorry about that. I'm just gonna go ahead and blame the song for that and not my lack of skill when it comes to dialogue. Also I'm just straight up NOT funny so writing Richie is hard. :(

Eddie wakes up to a phone call from Richie. Before Derry, he used to always keep his phone on silent at night. He’d read all the studies, he knows how unhealthy it is to be on your phone at night, and keep it off silent. But, that was before he had friends. Friends who were prone to constant PTSD nightmares that usually involved him being impaled and flung around the cavern. He would never risk Myra waking up to his ringtone and potentially answering the phone before he could though, so he woke up to the faint sound of vibrations coming from his nightstand. He wasn’t surprised that Richie was the one calling him this time, as he’s the one who calls the most, but it still set off an odd feeling in Eddie’s chest. A feeling that he knows wasn’t caused by the nightmare he had just been woken up from. 

Eddie is blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he grabs his phone and crawls out of bed. He can’t really see Richie’s name through the bleariness of his vision, but the stupid selfie of the two of them is staring right at him. Before he clicks answer, he thinks he catches the time. It’s somewhere around 5 in the morning now, meaning 2 for Richie. Knowing he can’t talk here, where Myra can’t hear, he stumbles into the bathroom, turning on the light and locking the door before crawling into the tub. He knows that realistically, the bathroom is the cleanest place in their apartment but he still feels gross about sitting on the toilet when he isn’t using it. 

“Richie, why are you calling me so late? It’s kinda hard to talk right now.” Eddie’s whispering. 

Richie doesn’t respond. Not right away. Eddie doesn’t push, knowing that whatever is going on right now, Richie needs to come to him first. It’s not too long before Eddie hears Rich let out a breath that for whatever reason he was holding. Quickly enough to startle Eddie though, the breath turns into a sob. Before he knows what’s happening, Richie is wailing into the phone, trying to say something but unable to through his cries. 

“Richie? Richie, why are you crying, is everything okay?” Eddie is panicking, of course he is, but before he can finish an interrogation, Richie responds, not exactly answering the question. 

“Why are you whispering?” 

“I gotta whisper ‘cause I can’t be too loud.” Eddie is expecting some sort of snarky comeback. A joke about how he’s an adult man who is still trying to hide and talk quietly so his mom-wife doesn’t hear him. 

“Oh.” That hurts worse than any poorly aimed joke at Eddie’s expense ever could. A Richie that doesn’t want to talk, to joke, is a Richie that Eddie doesn’t know how to handle.

“Myra’s in the next room.” He tries to fix it. He doesn’t. The moment the words come out of his mouth, he knows it's the wrong thing to say. 

They don’t talk about why Richie is crying, but Eddie is pretty sure he has a good idea. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten a call from Richie about the nightmares. All of the Losers had to watch Eddie die, but none so vividly as Richie. None of them ended the night covered in Eddie’s blood with the sight of him being impaled and muttering their name fresh in their mind. None of them had to nearly lose the love of their life. Neither of them wants to talk about it. 

Richie asks Eddie about Myra. Eddie doesn’t want to talk about Myra.

“Isn’t Myra a light sleeper? Watching over you in case you—” _Die in your sleep._ Eddie knows where that sentence was going. It still hurts too much for either of them to hear it, so he doesn’t mention it.

“Sometimes I wish she was you,” Eddie isn’t thinking before the words come out of his mouth, but it’s too late. It would be cliche and completely untrue to say that this surprised him, it isn’t the first time he’s had this thought. 

“Eds…” The fact that Richie is barely saying anything beyond short phrases and words is worrying Eddie more than any illness could. Richie is still crying, he can tell by the constant sniffling, but it seems like the mention of Myra earlier has him trying to hold his emotions back from Eddie again. 

“You never babied me like she does. Like my mom did. None of you guys did, but you were still the worst.” He didn’t mean that. Not in a rude way, at least. But that’s their language, they say means things without the intention behind it, because they know deep down that they could never mean it. 

Eddie wants Richie to respond. To say anything, but he remains silent. Richie had always been known as the one friend who would never shut up, but Eddie had always been able to keep up with Richie, so he fills the silence on his own. 

“I guess we never really moved on.” _From each other._ Richie’s breathing hitches, but he doesn’t say anything. “From Derry, I mean.” 

“Which time?” 

“Both, I guess.” Eddie waits, gives Richie a chance to speak. It’s an excuse to listen in and hear of Richie is still crying. “I married my mother, we both know it. Hell, you never shut up about it Rich. If Myra were to hear me right now…” He trailed off. He didn’t need to finish that sentence, they both knew. 

“...yeah” 

Eddie finally prods Richie about the dreams. He knows Richie doesn’t want to talk about it, but he also called for a reason. 

“It’s the dreams again, isn’t it. The deadlight ones?” 

Richie sighs. He knows he’s not going to be able to skirt around the topic this time. He’s not sure he wants to, but he’s also not sure he wants to talk about it. He just knows that he doesn’t have the energy to put into joking about it. 

“It’s not just the deadlights,” Richie says, taking a pause before correcting himself. “Well, it is the deadlights but it’s also… it’s also what happened after the deadlights.” His voice quiets considerably after he says this like he almost doesn’t want Eddie to hear. But Eddie heard, and he knows exactly what Rich is talking about. 

“It’s funny that you’re calling me tonight. ” Eddie lets out a dry laugh. He doesn’t let Richie respond. “I’ve dreamt of you too. Floating, stuck in the deadlights. Watching Stan trying to eat your face in Neibolt. Happens a lot, I tend to wake Myra up most nights and that’s worse than the dreams could ever be. Your call woke me up before I could start screaming.” 

Richie still doesn’t reply, but his sniffles are once again getting louder and more frequent, not quite sobbing. He can hear how uneven Richie’s breathing is now, not as controlled as it was before. He continues. 

“The worst ones are the ones with Stan. His head with the legs coming out, when he—”

“Not Stan,” Richie croaks. 

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice is softer, “Yeah, you’re right, sorry. Not Stan. But… It’s version of him, just his head. Spider-Stan. Standing over you trying to kill you with It’s spider legs, dripping drool all over your face. It’s so fucking disgusting, covered in god knows what. But… that’s not the part that gets me.”

“You? Eddie Spaghetti? Not afraid of a little dirt and drool? Unheard of. Who are you and what have you done with my Eds?” Richie says. He’s joking again, so maybe that’s a good sign. 

“Yeah, yeah. Chuck it up, dickwad.” Eddie plays annoyed, but the relief of Richie finally being comfortable enough to crack jokes clearly shows through his tone. “I didn’t do anything Rich. I just stood there in the corner watching my best friend about to be impaled by one of my other friends. And then Bill is yelling at me, and I get it. I should have done something Rich.” 

Richie doesn’t say anything about Eddie’s comment of watching his friend about to be impaled. He doesn’t have to and doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Eddie may have lived, but it’s still a sore subject. “It’s not your fault Eds. You were scared, we all were. It wasn’t Stan, but It still looked like him, none of us would have ever wanted to hurt him. Besides, you were there when it really mattered. You’re br—”

“Braver than I think, yeah I know.” His tone is soft. Neither Eddie and Richie want to talk about this anymore. 

“It’s really good to hear your voice.” Eddie changes the subject.

“Wow, I think that might be the first time I’ve ever heard that. Sure as hell never gonna let you live this one down, Eddie.” Richie’s voice was lighter, but there was still a hint of something. Richie was hiding, and Eddie was sure he knew exactly what it was. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says softly. He didn’t give himself the time or thought to regret it. 

“Don’t call you… What? Your name?” Richie’s voice almost broke, Eddie could imagine the disbelief on Richie’s face. It made him smile. 

“Saying my name… Not just my name but, you know. Eds. It… It sounds so sweet.” He’d always liked the nickname, but never allowed himself to show it. It would have made him too vulnerable. Eddie was tired of being afraid to be vulnerable with Richie. “Coming from your trash mouth.” Leave it to Eddie to ruin a moment.

Richie doesn't respond, but Eddie can hear how his breathing has forcibly evened, along with a bit of rustling. He can imagine Richie laying back, looking at the ceiling, forcing himself not to cry again. 

Eddie nearly panics. He’s never been this… soft before. But it’s 5 in the morning, he’d just dreamt about the possibility of losing his best friend for the nth night in a row, steeping in guilt from the reality the nightmares were based on and hiding in his bathroom to avoid the wife he never loved. He’s tired of being what people expect from him, what he thinks is safe. He just wants to be true. To be happy. To be proud. He doesn’t get a chance to let his mouth run and ruin the moment. 

“Hearing you say that… Hearing those words. Eddie. Fuck— Eds, it makes me weak. It makes me feel so fucking weak.”

“That’s okay, Rich. I can be brave for the both of us.” He means it. With every fiber of his being, he means it. He’s always had a hard time accepting that he was brave, but he would do it for Richie.

“Yeah.” Richie’s voice cracked. 

There is a moment of silence on the phone, in which Eddie remembers that Myra’s alarm will probably be going off soon. He’s not sure how long he’s been on the phone with Richie, but Myra had always insisted on waking Eddie up promptly at 6:30. It’s like Richie is on the same wavelength as Eddie though. He knows what Eddie is thinking about. 

“Does she know you’re talking to me? ” The same damaged voice he’s been using all night seems to hurt Eddie even more when used to talk about her. “ Will it start a fight?” He sounds more like a child, worried that his parents are fighting over him. He may not want them to love each other, but he doesn’t want to be the cause of Eddie’s anguish. 

Eddie thinks he might be able to hear rustling coming from their bedroom, but Myra had always been a particularly restless sleeper so she could just be tossing and turning. That or Eddie’s fear of her waking up is making him hear things that aren’t there. He doesn’t tell Richie any of this though. “No, I don’t think she has a clue .” He doesn’t want to hang up. He knows he has to. “But… it’s getting early. I… I think I have to go. Before she wakes up.” 

“I don’t know about that Eds, I made sure to _really_ put her to sleep last night. Doubt she’ll be waking up any time soon.” The joke was weak, definitely not his best. Neither of them comments on that. 

“Oh shut it, dickwad.” A laugh, then silence. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” 

“I never wanna say goodbye.” Eddie is struck by just how true this statement is. For a moment, he lives in a world where there are no goodbyes with Richie. Only temporary moments of separation in which they know at the end of the day, they’ll always come back to one another. “But, damn Rich. You make it hard to be faithful.” 

If Richie wants to comment on this, he doesn’t. “Don’t say goodbye.” 

“I won't Rich. Never. But I do have to go.”

“Yeah... “ Another moment of silence. Eddie goes to hang up before he hears something coming from the speaker. By the time he gets the phone back to his ear, he only catches the end. 

“—love you, Eds.” 

“I love you too, Trashmouth.” It felt good to say. They’d said it many times before, hell all the Losers had. But never had he put as much emotion into it as he did then. He loved Richie, and for once he wasn’t afraid of what that meant. 

Richie hung up first. 

Eddie walks out of the bathroom with a smile on his face. The bathroom light is on, but the bedroom is still bathed in dark. He doesn’t notice Myra sat with her feet on the floor on his side of the bed. The left side of her face is illuminated only by the faint ensuite bathroom light. She’s holding Eddie’s silk pajama shirt, which he discarded shortly after he knew Myra had fallen asleep. 

“I don’t understand.” For a moment, he’s afraid she heard the phone call. She heard the affection dripping from his declaration of love. He doesn’t say anything. “Why don’t you wear your pajamas anymore. You always take off your pajama shirt sometime in the middle of the night. I don’t understand. Why, Eddie-bear?” 

It wasn’t at all what he was expecting, and he thinks that the shock of the unexpected question is the only thing that spurs him into speaking. “It irritates my scar.” 

“It can’t be any more irritating than the scratchy sheets? Or the duvet? It’s a silk top Eddie, it’s not meant to irritate your skin. You know I would never buy anything for you if I knew it would hurt you.” Eddie thought of all the medicine in their cabinet. It wasn’t meant for hurting, he knew that, but in the end, that’s all it had ever accomplished.

“I know that. But, I don’t know, it’s just itchy. I don’t like it.” 

“You’re lying to me, Eddie-bear.”

“Myra, it’s a shirt. Why would I lie about—” 

“Who is she?” 

Eddie is stunned. “What?” 

“The one on the phone. The one you want to be brave for.” Eddie _is_ shocked, but a part of him knew she was listening. A part of him was waiting for her to find out. Then maybe he’d finally have an excuse. She looks up at him, and for once he can see tears on her face. They’re falling silently. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen real tears on her face. “The one you never want to say goodbye to, Eddie. Who is she?” 

“Myra…” She looks away. Eyes trained on the far wall, transfixed by their shadows. “Marty. There was no girl. I promise, there wasn’t—” 

“It was that redhead, wasn’t it? The one who was in the hospital with you. She was always giving me dirty looks y’know, even though I was just trying to help you.” 

“Bev?” Eddie asks. “Beverly Marsh? No. Marty, no I wasn’t talking to Beverly. It’s not like that, I don’t—” 

“I only ever wanted to help you, Eddie. I just wanted to protect you. I did it because I love you.” 

A barrage of flashbacks flow through Eddie’s mind. He’s heard all of those words before, something he’d only remembered when he returned to Derry. 

“I don’t need you to protect me, Myra, I’m a grown man!” He snaps. He regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth, but he can’t tell if it’s from legitimate empathy for his wife, or if the guilt is something that has been ingrained in him his entire life. _Don’t fight back Eddie-bear. Don’t stand up for yourself. Just listen to Mommy and do what she says, after all, she’s just trying to protect you. Because she loves you._

Until now, Myra had been acting robotically. Her words were coming out monotonously and the only reason Eddie could tell she was hurt was by the look on her face. Eddie’s yelling seemed to snap her out of it. 

“What is wrong with you, Eddie-bear? What has that _woman_ done to you? This isn't the Eddie I know. This isn’t like you.” 

“This isn’t like me? Really Myra, and what do you know about me?” 

“More than she does, Eddie! I’m your wife! I’ve been in your life longer than she ever has! Longer than any of your so-called friends. Eddie, you can say that this is who you are, but I know better.”

“I’ve known them since I was a _child,_ Myra.”

“Yeah, and then they left you. They left you because no one can care for you like I do Eddie. You’ve known them since you were a child, but did you know them as an adult? Do they know how you like your food? What you like to do in your free time now that you’re not running around town like a heathen? Do they know your favorite shows, or which side of the bed you prefer? Does she know what it means to take care of you? You may have known them for longer, but where were they for all your hospital visits? For all your promotions and all your asthma attacks? Where were they when your mother died and when we got married, Eddie? You knew them when you were a kid, not since you were one.”

Eddie is speechless. He had spent his entire childhood learning how to come up with quick comebacks on the fly. He’d adapted his entire life into learning how to craft the perfect argument and to win every fight. Part of that was growing up with Richie, and another was spending his adult years in New York City. But Myra had left him speechless. She had taken all of the fight out of him. 

“If this is who you’ve always been, Eddie, then who did I marry? Because this version of him, this version of you, it isn’t him.” 

“I’m never going to be him again Marty. It’s… that wasn’t good for me. I don’t need someone to take care of me. I don’t need someone to control my life. Myra, what we had, our whole relationship. It was toxic. It was bad. For both of us.” 

“Why did you marry me, Eddie?” She sounds broken again. 

“To replace my mother.” He was tired of hiding. He wanted to take a shot at being honest for once, and he was finally sure he knew the answer. She didn’t seem surprised. They both knew it, deep down. “Her love was the only ever love I ever knew. It wasn’t good for me, but… I think I forgot. I forgot how bad she made me feel. And then there was you, and you took care of me the way I thought I needed to be. I loved my mother, and I loved you. But, I don’t think I should have ever married you.” 

He knows that she had seen it coming. He could tell on her face that she had been expecting that answer, but that didn’t cover the shame and sadness that filled her face. It didn’t hide the tears that started falling. 

Eddie had expected a lot of things from her. He expected her to start crying harder, wailing for him to stay. Begging that he take it back. Telling him more about how no one else will ever love him, yelling at him in anger or guilting him. Instead, she simply gets up, walks around the bed and settles into her side, facing away from him. 

“Is… Marty…. Is that it? You’re not going to beg me to take it back? Ask me to stay?” Eddie was disgusted at just how desperate he sounded; as if he _wanted_ her to manipulate him into apologizing and working through things. And maybe a part of him did, because as much as he could tell himself he was ready for change, seeing the possibility of it happening scared him. 

“Why would I? The man I married left me months ago, when he took off to his hometown without telling me a thing, only to show up half dead. How can I ask you to stay when you’ve already left?” 

He didn’t have a response to that one either. She was right. He may have been living in this house with her again, but he left her long ago. Instead of speaking, he finally moved from the spot outside the bathroom he had rooted himself in. The moment his body touched the mattress, he felt Myra stiffen up. 

“I think you should sleep on the couch.” He could hear the unspoken, _and not just for tonight._

“Yeah… Yeah sure.” The couch was horrible. Comfortable enough to sit on, but not enough to sleep on, especially with Eddie still healing from his injuries. The fact that Myra no longer cared felt worse than being impaled by a demon spider clown from space ever could. He may have married her to replace his mother, but Myra wasn’t actually Sonia Kaspbrak. 

Before Eddie leaves the room, he stalls in the doorway, wanting to clear up one last thing. 

“I wasn’t talking to Bev. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it wasn’t Bev. I don’t love her like that.” She doesn’t respond. Of course, she doesn’t. She had made it clear that she was done. He continues anyway. “It was….” he’s terrified to admit this. He didn’t want his first time coming out to be like this. “His name is Richie.” He can hear her sobs through the door the second he lets it click shut, quiet and muffled in a way that strikes a chord in his chest from the sheer unfamiliarity of it. 

That night, he lay on the couch, unable to sleep. He feels bad, terrible even. His relationship with Myra was toxic, but a part of him would always still love her deeply. He couldn’t have lived this long with her if he didn’t love her. But, he wholeheartedly believes what he had told her earlier. The love he felt for Myra wasn’t the kind that should have lead to marriage. He was just as bad for her as she was for him, and he doesn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for wasting such a big chunk of her life like that. It wasn’t fair that he had someone to come home to after this, and she didn’t. 

Yet, not even his own guilt could keep the smile off of his face. He was free. He was finally free from the hold his mother had had on him for 40 years, well past the grave, and he fell asleep to daydreams of what his life could be like now. And if those dreams predominantly featured Richie, well that’s something for him to keep to himself. Well, himself and maybe his therapist. He’s still unpacking all that shit from Derry, what’s a bit more baggage to add on during his next session. 


End file.
